One smolders waiting for a lively wind to raise the flames, to birth the crazy dance that licks and flickers, roars and rages, bringing marvels to a night that otherwise might languish. Within one’s sack a thousand dreams, the wealth of vagabonds and madmen, strange visions of vast insurgent games and wild leaping dances, of castles in the air and hidden among the trees. With such ragged wealth one simpleton went wandering among the realms of nightmare and the lands rumored to be madcap paradise, arcadian delight for the wildest of dreamers.
He came to a small forest, his heart, his mind, just smoldering ashes, hoping that the fuel to raise the flame might be here among these other tramps and dreamers, wanderers and fools… Surely there is someone here with whom to meld a dream, a scheme… to project marvelous creations.
For a while, castles in the air, schemes for strange music ands and rumors of mad dances fanned the sparks, but not enough to waken a flame… Once, it’s true, or twice, the passion flared, but there was no fuel to feed the flame… The spark was growing dull. Time to leave before it died away.
Some people’s dreams cannot sit still or they will wither. Maybe when this foolish tramp finds himself more crazed and blazing like a storm he’ll fall upon this land again to dance his crazy dances with those he madly loves, to flash his lightning laughter through the air – and then to disappear as suddenly as he appeared – forever vagabond.